Page 18 of In Her Shadow

As the sky turned from purple to black, the main road gave way to a narrower trail, the gravel crunching under his wheels like brittle bones.He flicked off his headlights, relying on the moon’s glow and intimate knowledge of these lands to navigate.Ahead, Bates’ truck signaled a turn.

He eased his vehicle onto the same path, guided by an unerring sense of purpose.He didn’t need lights to tell him where he was going; this territory was etched into his memory, mapped in the lines of his hands.The promise of violence hung in the air like the scent of impending rain.Though his heart remained steady, adrenaline coursed through his veins, priming him for the act to come.

With the ranch coming into view, a silhouette against the starless night, he pulled off onto an adjacent patch of dirt, under overhanging branches.From here, he would wait, watch, and when the time was ripe, he would strike—another blow for justice, another echo in the chorus of “the land remembers.”

CHAPTER TEN

Jake stared out the window of Jenna’s cruiser, the reflections of Trentville’s streetlights flickering across the glass.His mind replayed the town meeting - the raised voices, the sharp accusations.The community he’d come here to serve was fracturing before his eyes, and it unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

The headlights swept across the front of Frank Doyle’s bungalow as they pulled into the driveway.Before he and Jenna could get out of the car, the front door opened, and there stood Frank, backlit by the warm glow from inside his home.

“Evening, folks,” he called out.“Come on in.”As Jake and Jenna stepped over the threshold, the scent of chamomile wafted through the air.Jake’s gaze swept across the room, taking in the muted colors, the well-worn furniture, and the mementos that spoke of Frank’s accomplishments and the respect he had garnered over the years.

“Figured we could all use something to settle our nerves,” Frank continued, leading them into the living room.As he followed Jenna, Jake couldn’t help but feel the history within these walls.Frank’s home was more than a dwelling; it was a chronicle of the town itself, and Jake stood there, an observer still learning to read its pages.

His attention drifted to a particular photograph as they settled into the living room.There, captured in the bright optimism of youth, was Jenna at her police academy graduation, flanked by a younger Frank whose pride was unmistakable.Jake sensed the depth of their bond, the shared experiences, and the time spent in this town, wrapped in camaraderie and secrets.Jake felt the twinge of being an outsider keenly then, an interloper standing on the edge of their story.He craved that sense of belonging but knew it was not something that could be forced or rushed.

The timeworn cushions of Frank’s couch welcomed Jake as he and Jenna settled into the cozy confines of the living room.The delicate scent of chamomile floated through the space as Frank retrieved a steaming pot and poured the tea with an unhurried ease.

Jenna wasted no time delving into the night’s events.“It was like watching a ship capsize in slow motion,” she said.Her fatigue was evident, but it did nothing to dampen the sharpness with which she recounted each argument, each accusation hurled across the community center’s floor.

“Simmons practically threw us to the wolves,” Jenna continued, her ire rising as she spoke of the mayor’s performance.“And now we’ve got half the town convinced we’re fumbling around in the dark.”

Jake took a sip of chamomile then set his mug down.“And the other half is too scared to trust anyone,” he added.“We’re no closer to finding Clyde’s killer, and now we’ve got a panicked community to deal with.”

Frank’s chair creaked as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, mug cradled in hands that had seen more than their fair share of Trentville’s troubles.“You two are up against it, no doubt,” he rumbled.“But remember, panic and fear can work in your favor too.People will be more vigilant, more likely to report anything suspicious.”

Jake considered Frank’s words.It was true; fear could be a catalyst, driving the townsfolk’s eyes wider, their senses sharper.Yet, the thought offered little comfort.Fear could also become a wildfire.

Obviously thinking along the same lines, Jenna said, “Maybe.But panic also breeds chaos, and in chaos, the truth can get trampled.”

Jake brought up a photograph on his cell phone—the macabre tree with branching nerves that had been branded on Clyde Simmons’s chest.

“Any idea where this image came from?”he ventured.“Someone had to make it in metal to use as a branding iron.”

“Yeah, I remember when Spelling put that on the overhead,” Frank said slowly.“I’ve still got no idea where it came from.And in these parts, a lot of people have got the skill to make a thing like that.”

“Nobody in town seems to recognize it,” Jenna mused.

Frank grunted in agreement.“Back in ‘74, we had a case with a similar MO—well, an image just drawn on the body—but it turned out to be a scorned lover making it look like ritualistic work.People get creative when they want to throw us off.”

“Do you think that’s what’s going on here?”Jake asked.

“It’s hard to say,” Frank said.“My gut tells me no.This feels like it’s really supposed to mean something—if only we could figure it out.He’s trying to tell us something with that brand.It’s a message.And he’s going to keep trying to send it until we stop him.”

On that chilling note, Jake and his colleagues found themselves at an impasse.The conversation then shifted seamlessly away from the case at hand into tales of past cases, the kind that never made it into official reports.Frank recounted an incident involving the mayor’s dog, a lost diamond necklace, and a bungled burglary.Jenna laughed, the sound rich with shared history, as she added her recollections.

“Remember the Colstock cattle thefts?”Jenna asked, turning towards Frank, her eyes alight with the thrill of the chase, even years after the fact.

“Ah, yes,” Frank chuckled, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.“Turned out to be a bunch of kids from Pinecrest pulling a prank.Took us weeks to sort that mess.”

Jake sipped his tea, then sat the mug down and felt the fibers of the couch beneath his fingers, the slight give as he shifted closer to Jenna.He was acutely aware of her presence, the way her chestnut hair framed her face in disarray.

“Jenna,” Frank began, shifting the conversation.“How’s Margaret doing with her sobriety?”

Jenna’s gaze dropped for a moment to her own tea.When she looked up, her weary green eyes bore a tender light.“So far, so good.It’s been tough, but she’s staying strong.”

Frank turned toward Jake.“And how about you, Jake?How are you settling into Trentville?Must be quite a change from your previous posting.”

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